


Licking up the Flames

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: RamenSpots [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, He's Naruto's Problem Now, Madara's a Sulk, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Tsunade Is Done With This Shit, Uchiha Madara Survived The War, Uzumaki Naruto The Babysitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Madara ends up surviving the Fourth World War. All the Kage are prepared to deal out eternal punishment, but Naruto just can't stand by and watch another needless death. Not if she can help it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

_April_

 

 

 

" _You can't just kill him!_ "

Had she known just what would become of those words, what the results would be, Naruto would... Well, she'd still have probably shared them. She would have just been a little more prepared for the consequences.

Chewing at the plump flesh of her lower lip, Naruto's eyes dart around Tsunade's office, inhaling the scent of fresh sake and stale paperwork. It wouldn't be long till the last remaining Sannin moved out, all that remained of her abdication was a formal announcement that yes, Hatake Kakashi would be the one to take over the converted role of Hokage. It is already widely accepted, word had gotten out somehow, and Tsunade had been in the hospital testing Kakashi's new eye at the time, so the silver haired Jonin hadn't been able to flee for the hills.

Okay, so Naruto is still a little disappointed that she won't be the one to take up the title of Sixth Hokage, but after the war, people assured her she is a sure bet for the Seventh. How strange it is, to be accepted so widely, to be welcomed and loved so thoroughly. Ten years ago, the vast majority of the Leaf hated her, hated Kurama, on sight.

Hell, sometimes even before they caught their first glimpse of her.

' ** _This is a stupid idea_** ,' comes the helpful internal commentary. As groggy as Kurama sounds, he is at the very least awake, an improvement on their return to the Leaf six months ago.

Scratching cautiously at the false arm Tsunade had created for her, Naruto lets her thoughts trail back to the current problem.

Namely, one Uchiha Madara.

One Uchiha Marada who'd survived the war and is still among the living.

A Uchiha Madara that she has accidentally on purpose vouched for.

She hadn't meant to, but, but there'd been enough war, enough fighting and killing.

The Curse of Hatred, as far as she is concerned, is hogwash. She'd beaten Sasuke out of it, so why not take a chance and try and sort out the other living Uchiha while she's at it?

Yeah, everyone in the know no doubt thinks she's crazy, but they always had. You'll never be a ninja, never be Hokage, never be able to bring Sasuke back, never beat the Akatsuki, never beat Kaguya.

Naruto lives to prove others wrong.

So if everyone thought Madara was beyond hopeless, well, Naruto would do what she did best.

Prove them wrong.

After all, Uchiha Madara had been a victim of circumstance, manipulated by Zetsu. No one should be expected to live through the death of all their family, the betrayal of those close to you.

If the people of the Leaf could forgive Sasuke for all that he'd done, for practically helping start the Fourth war -not that many of them knew that come to think of it- then they could at least give Madara a second chance.

And Naruto is all about second chances, regardless of the uphill battles they require.

If there is good to be found in that man, then Naruto wil be the one to find it.

"Alright brat," Tsunade grunts, pulling her soft pink lips away from the hard ring of the bottle neck. The empty bottle neck. "Let's go get your latest pet project."

Nodding and fully aware of how damningly serious this whole thing is, Naruto waits for Tsunade to get to her feet, following after her fellow blonde as she takes off from the Hokage's office.

As they walk, eyes linger on the two of them, Naruto clocking each and every glance with a cautiousness that'd carried over from a childhood of looking over her shoulder. It doesn't matter that these looks are now ones of reverence and gratitude as opposed to the suspicion and hate of the past; like her love for ramen, it is not a habit she can break herself of.

"You will wear a seal that puts you in charge of his chakra, how much he can use, and how close he has to be to use it. Set it to a meter, and he's practically a civilian if he's not in arms length of you. Do you understand Naruto?"

Nodding, the blonde rund a hand through her bangs, scratching at her cheek as an after thought.

"You're leaving me in charge? Like, fully in charge?"

Being the main parole officer for Uchiha Madara sound like a big job. Not that she isn't up for it! But, still, that's a lot of trust to put in her.

"You saved the world brat, if anyone can pull off this crazy idea, it's you. Still, you've got rules to follow. No giving him chakra access in the village for two years, unless it's an absolute emergency. He goes with you on missions, and you're not to give him more than fifty percent while out the village walls. He kills one person in my village and that's it, he's dead."

"What about if it's a spy or assassin?"

Naruto cringes back at the look Tsunade gives her in response, shoulders wilting slightly.

"That'll be your call. I hope you know what you're doing brat. If you were anyone else, this'd never have been okayed."

Nodding, Naruto wipes her sweaty palms on the side of her pants, chasing after Tsunade as she ducks into ANBU HQ.

This is not a smart idea.

It is probably one of the worst risks she's ever taken.

But Naruto is going to give it a go anyway.

 

 


	2. Two

_April_

 

 

"Maa, you see, if Naruto-chan dies, your chakra goes with her. And with the state of the seal as it is now, the fox won't need to regenerate at all. I think you can guess what its first goal will be if anyone dares to off its favourite human, no?"

Refusing to give Hatake the pleasure of seeing how vastly irritated by this situation he is, Uchiha Madara leans a little further back, resting his back against the wall but intensely aware of the cuffs that still encircle his wrists. He won't give them the satisfaction of hearing the chains -a reminder of his capture, of his failure- rattle as he moves, even if they don't need one to already know they have him beat.

The seal, freshly inked into the tender skin of his right inner wrist, burns at his chakra pathways, clogging everything up. Sealing everything up. It's a persistent itch beneath his skin that he just can't scratch, and it's driving him absolutely crazy.

He's never, not once in his life, been unable to access his chakra. Not in his first life on this earth anyway. Even if the memories seem further away as more time passes, like the words of a worn, beloved novel. Not like he'd actually lived through each and every chapter. He is going mad in this cage the Leaf have created for him, stashed deep beneath the ANBU Headquarters, the Torture and Interrogation Headquarters.

He would know, he'd been the one to build these cells alongside Hashirama. Though the trio of secret escape tunnels are no longer present.

Disappointing.

"Maa, are you listening Madara-chan?"

And this bastard. God, he's so smug, even though if they were to stand on opposite sides of the battlefield, Madara would be able to crush him like a bug.

Though, perhaps smug isn't quite the right word, it just appears that way. No, the man is infuriatingly calm.

It pushes rage into his stomach, makes it boil with his fury. When he'd lost, when he'd laid beaten and battered at the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, he'd made his peace with Hashirama. Waited for death to take him.

Only, it hadn't.

The human body had an exceedingly tedious desire to survive, and so, here he is. Though the Leaf had offered him no medical aid, they had not killed him instantly either.

Just whisked his weakened form down to their securest prison. Made sure he'd be unable to follow through whatever dangerous plan he came up with next.

In all honesty, Madara isn't sure he'd wanted to.

Hashirama's ideals had won. His desire for peace, his dream, had been stronger than Madara's own.

Thus, he'd won in the end, and Madara would respect his oldest, and truest friend's victory.

That doesn't mean he'll allow them to leash him like a wild mutt though.

Lifting his gaze to meet Hatake's, Madara puts as much of his boredom, his apathy, as he can into the weight of his stare. The silver haired nin just looks back at him, slate grey eyes dark before they curve upwards in a cheap imitation of a smile.

"Maa, you won't be wearing that expression for long." Was that a threat?

Frowning, Madara watches as Hatake steps back, slinking out of the path of the door as it swings open.

Hashirama's grandchild is the first to step inside, and Madara remembers how she'd looked, cut in half. The very fact she'd managed to survive such an injury is commendable, but he has little interest in her now. She doesn't stand up to her grandfather's legacy.

No, Madara is much more interested in the other blonde that follows the woman in.

Hashirama's reincarnation, if what he'd overheard was true.

Now that the fact is acknowledged, even with his chakra sealed he can still sense her. It's a perfect match, and yet, oh so very wrong at the same time. It holds all the warmth of Hashirama's chakra, but while his old friends' had been like the earthy comfort of the summer forests, Uzumaki's is the Hokage mountain basking beneath the sun on a scorching day.

He'd watched her fight Kaguya alongside the only other living Uchiha. If any were to match him in this world at the height of his power, it would be those two.

The one who had taken a hold of Hashirama's ideals and clung tighter than anything he'd ever known, who'd even managed to pull his counterpart back from the brink.

Something not even Hashirama had managed to do; Hashirama hadn't managed to pull him back.

Maybe it is wrong to hold that against his old friend, but if he'd just tried a little harder, reached a little more, perhaps things wouldn't have ended as badly as they did. But when they were children, Hashirama had given up on their dream, on him, when they met resistance.

Uzumaki had refused to give up on her Uchiha.

Had slugged on with a bullheadedness he's never witnessed before in anyone.

Why had she kept going, refused to give up on such an evidentially hopeless case, when all logic dictated that such a thing was a stupid idea?

Blue eyes stare back at him and Madara notes the cautiousness that shines within them.

Yet, she's still here. She's put herself forwards where the Leaf had probably already been planning his execution. She didn't even have the excuse of knowing him, of being his friend, like she does with her Uchiha.

It is the height of stupidity.

"You might have been too busy trying to subject the world to your will, but this is Naruto," Hatake muses, eyes sliding over to look at the young woman, "Naruto, good luck."


	3. Three

_April_

 

_"What?" Naruto feels just the tiniest bit numb. That is what happens when you've got medical chakra running through your veins, when three medics are busy attaching a prosthetic arm onto the stump you ended up left with._

_Shaking the arm back and forth, Naruto grimaces at the strange new weight, how it takes so much thought for her to wiggle the fingers back and forth. But her focus is mainly upon what Sakura has just told her, what Tsunade's grim face is promising to be true._

_"Madara survived. He's got his chakra sealed and is in the bowels of T &I at the moment, only the four of us know about this right now."_

_The dark, barely restrained violence in Tsunade's voice has Naruto cringing away from her, and she ends up knocking her head against Shizune in her attempts to flee._

_"What?! No!"_

_"He'll be quietly executed and no one else ever needs to know."_

_No._

_This is wrong, it is this kind of practice that'd led the villages into war, that'd been used, during the clan wars. It isn't right._

' ** _Perhaps brat, you can suggest a second option,_** ' _Kurama slyly grumbles from within her mind, and Naruto latches onto the idea. Because she has not met an enemy yet she couldn't defeat on her own terms. And she wants to use her words, not her fists this time._

_"You can't just kill him!"_

 

 

.

 

 

 

Walking up out of the bowels of T&I, it feels as if every single muscle within her body is tense, ready for action. For her back is to the man who'd played one of the heaviest hands that contributed to the war.

And yet, at the same time, one of those who'd been manipulated the most. Zetsu had been whispering in everyone's ears, but perhaps none more so than Madara's. The Uchiha tablet that Sasuke and the Sage had spoken of, probably the death of his brother, it's all Zetsu's fault.

Had she not reeled Sasuke back in, had she not stopped her best friend and brother in all but blood, he might have gone further than what Madara had.

She'd given Sasuke chance after chance…

It is only fair that she gives Madara a chance, a chance to break out the cycle of hatred that's so ensnared him.

The sun greets Naruto with its warm light, and the blonde just takes a moment to appreciate the fact she can stop to bask in its glow. No more war, no more Akatsuki threatening to rip Kurama from her gut. No one will take her most trusted partner from her, only death will ever manage that. The nations were at peace, all is well…

For now.

When the other nations find out that Madara is still alive, they will call for blood. Maybe there should be another Kage summit, so that she can break the news gently.

She's a hero now, they have to listen to her, right?

' ** _Think again, Kit._** '

Scowling, Naruto turns to look at Madara, who has surfaced behind her with not even the slightest flinch at the change in light. His eyes are guarded, scanning the village in the same way a shinobi looks upon their meal; checking for the potentially hidden poison. For the hidden danger.

"It's cool, no one else knows you even survived," Naruto chirps, rocking back on her heels and mentally calculating the quickest path across the rooftops.

She can give Madara enough chakra to traverse the rooftops, he wouldn't be able to perform more than the basic jutsus with it. His Sharingan is sealed up indefinitely, so there'd be no Dōjutsu powered illusions; she could deal with anything else.

And even though Kakashi-sensei had been thoughtful enough to provide Madara with the standard Konoha uniform, the Uchiha was kind of a recognisable figure. It's best to get him to her Fūinjutsu protected flat as quickly as possible.

So that Baa-chan or Kakashi-sensei can break the news real quick.

Gentle clearly isn't an option here.

Naruto can only hope that the citizens of the Leaf trusted her enough with this.

"So I'm a dirty little secret then?" Madara's deep voice, silken like every other Uchiha she's ever heard speak, echoes through Naruto's ears, and she purses her lips at his words.

"Nah, Kaka-sensei is gonna drop the bomb later today. Which is why we are going home right now. You get shanked on your face day out and it'll reflect badly on me, get it?"

"You wouldn't stop them?"

Naruto scowls, spinning on her heel and jabbing her pointer finger into Madara's chest. Hard.

"Of course I would. Seriously though, get your life together. No one else gets a second chance like this. So. Make. It. Count," Naruto orders, stabbing her finger to drive home each word, "they all hated me before. But I worked at it, I didn't give up. And now they accepted me. You just gotta do the same. Break the cycle of hatred. And it can be done. I should know."

Madara blinks, staring down from where he towers over her five foot nothing form, a funny look on his face. It's the same one Sasuke wore after their battle, as if he couldn't quite understand what Naruto was even doing near him.

On Madara, it looks even stranger.

"Now come on, follow me. If you stop to kick puppies, you ain't getting no dessert."


	4. One Point Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Madara starts to get an idea of just who he's going to be spending his time with.

_April_

 

 

  
 For as loud and boisterous as she is in personality, Uzumaki's apartment holds a calm sense of serenity that puts Madara ill at ease immediately.

It's clean, scrolls neatly lined up along the Southern wall, photographs carefully -oh so lovingly- placed upon the Northern wall, filled with people, the majority smiling. There are three doors leading off from the main room that doubles as a kitchen, one of which Madara assumes to be his room for the foreseeable future.

Perhaps, if he can get Uzumaki to believe he's settled in fast enough, and if he listens sharp enough, he will be able to hear the roar of outrage as the rest of the village -and beyond- find out he still lives.

He wonders how long it will take them to attempt tracking him down.

If Uzumaki gave him his chakra back, he wonders what he would do with it. Would he fight them all?

Or would he allow their assassination attempts to strike true, to snuff out what little will to live remains, so that he may go join his brother in whatever exists beyond this plane?

Despite having died once before, Madara cannot quite remember what lays beyond, other than a comforting sensation of peace. And now, by his own mechanisms, he's pulled himself free of that place, situating himself in all of this painful uncertainty.

He has no goal, no drive, but to wish to die, that is the quitters way out; it's spitting on everything not only he ever stood for, but also that of his brother's beliefs, of Hashirama's stern resolve.

It does not give him an answer though.

The Moon's Eye Plan, he was being manipulated all along, led along by a short leash, kept blind and unseeing to the truth until it had been too late, and he was already in over this head.

Then, when all the dust settled, when Zetsu and its demonic creator was destroyed, Madara found himself still standing as the world prepared to move on.

And he has no idea what he's doing here.

For the first time, ever, in his life, Uchiha Madara finds himself directionless, adrift in a world that has long since moved on from him.

He doesn't know this place.

This Konoha is not the one he helped build. This one has seen invasions, so many invasions and attacks and each time, it has sill recovered, like a newly planted sapling bursting through the dark soil again and again, a new generation of life with each rebirth.

"The room on the left is yours," Uzumaki explains, gesturing to the door, and Madara nods mechanically in response.

He still has his pride, and it stings from having to rely upon Uzumaki's pity and good will to survive. It is degrading, and never before has he been brought so low, to have to depend upon a woman's kindness to survive, be she the strongest woman -Hashirama's reincarnation but also not- he's ever met.

Shoulders straight, Madara stalks across the living room, opening the door and entering what will now be his only refuge from the rest of the world. Hell, that's if Uzumaki grants him that much privacy. She already holds his chakra, leashed as tight and restricted as it is beneath his skin.

Anger bubbles through his veins again, at the reminder that he is cut off, that the substance that is the lifeblood of fighting is no longer in his grasp.

"You need to make a list."

Madara tilts his head to a side, enough to look towards Uzumaki over his shoulder, past his wild mane of black hair.

She's stood by the doorway, just outside his new room and clearly unwilling to fully invade what has now become his territory.

So, it seems living here will not be as horribly intrusive as expected.

"A list," Madara repeats dully, watching as Uzumaki's lips press together in a stern pout, nothing like the ferocious snarl from the war.

"Ero-sensei said when people are lost, they need to make a list of what the want, then a list of what they'll do."

Madara stares.

Surely, surely she cannot be serious? Is she actually attempting to force him into some form of self help exercise?

A minute passes by, and the legendary Uchiha realise that Uzumaki is being dead serious, and actually expects him to comply with her demand.

What a ludicrous idea.

This was the exact reason why men were better ninjas than women, they didn't need to complete a ridiculous list to get things done.

"No."

Uzumaki twitches.

"What'da'ya mean 'no'?" She parrots, folding her arms across her orange clad chest with a scowl.

What kind of self respecting ninja wears orange anyway? How the hell had this girl survived long enough to get as strong as she was?

Had she been born in the Clan Wars, she'd have been murdered on her first mission, wearing something as eye-searingly bright as that.

No, had she been born then, she wouldn't have even been a ninja. She'd have been a housewife, a mother to kids. Not a war hero.

"I'm not partaking in your stupid ideas, I'm not a charity case, and I'm certainly not something you can just go about fixing," Madara sneers as he speaks, and with every word that passes his lips, Uzumaki's eyes narrow.

But it's true. You cannot fix what is not broken.

Madara isn't broken, his self appointed purpose is complete, even if the tentative peace that now cradles the Five Nations was never birthed by his actions.

He's not broken, just directionless.

Yet, Uzumaki still stands at his door with a stubborn tilt to her chin, jaw clenched and blue fire burning bright in her eyes.

"We'll see about that, 'ttbayo" she grumbles, closing the threshold as she turns on heels, and Madara has the underlying feeling that he's just been threatened.

With what, he's not sure, but the sensation persists.

Huh.


	5. One Point Four

 

 

 

Naruto doesn't quite storm out of the apartment, but it's a near thing.

All she can see whenever she blinks are Madara's eyes -dead black eyes- and it's not just Kurama's who's steadily growing infuriated by the sight of them.

Her small hands are balled into fists, and her irritating is a tropical storm rumbling within her body.

As such, it takes her a few moments to recognise the fact that everyone seems to be near silent.

Slowing in her strides, Naruto purposefully blinks, noting how everyone seems to want to both stare flat out at her and not meet her eyes in the slightest.

Ah, they must have heard about Madara then.

Swallowing, the blonde tilts her head back, taking a deep breath and letting the air fill her lungs.

No, she wouldn't bow to their expectations and their beliefs. Their thirst for revenge. She was in the right here. Hell, she had been in Madara's position a decade ago, the most hated person in Konoha. If she could change their minds about her then she could change them about Madara.

Shoulders set back, Naruto meets the eyes of every single person who walks past her, every single person who so much as twists their head in her direction.

She's never been one to quake under pressure, she'll stand up for what she believes in, and she'll make them see that this is right. They gave Sasuke a second chance, hell, Orochimaru invaded and killed a Hokage and everyone's okay with him being off out in the open world, loosely allied with Konoha as he is.

Madara's made some mistakes, but he was manipulated into them, and he deserves a chance to fix it.

 

 

 

 

It all leads to her sat at the greatest ramen stand in the world, noticeably more popular than ever before.

If people stare and whisper when she comes in, well, Naruto has always been exposed to that, this isn't any different. It just so happens that instead of the vicious words of her childhood, the beloved praises from after the war, that it is instead hesitant murmurs.

They're not sure what to make of her any more, and while Naruto would give it her all to protect each and every last one of them, she doesn't have the energy to muster up a rousing speech right now.

So far, she's had to put up with the betrayed stares of all the shinobi she'd passed in the street, the angry glares of widowers and the puzzlement of young orphans.

Buying male clothes at the standard shinobi store had the owner's fingers itching, as if he wanted to hike up the price. That or wrap them around someone's neck.

Even Naruto, as oblivious as she is, knows who the man's preferred victim would be.

On the plus side, she thinks with uncommonly dark humour, everyone seems to have forgotten about Sasuke's involvement in starting the war now that they had a better target for their bitter emotions.

Angling her chopsticks, Naruto plucks up a helping of noddles, desperately trying to sort out the wild mess that is her mind.

For the first time in a very long time, she does not know how to handle the situation. She doesn't know what to do.

Ever since she became a ninja, Naruto has always been able to power through to her goal, knowing the solution.

Client lied about the mission? We'll do it anyway!

Sand and Sound attacking the Leaf? She'll defeat the biggest threat and turn Gaara into a nice person while she's at it!

Sasuke ran away? She'll drag him back kicking and screaming if she has to, believe it!

Only, this isn't something with a clear answer. This is like those stupid debate questions they'd get at the academy, the ones only Sakura and Shikamaru ever managed to formulate a tentative answer to.

Naruto isn't completely oblivious, she knows she's not the typical book smart. She knows that sometimes things escape her notice. She knows that she's not got the most brilliant mind of the century.

But it's always been enough, she's never tripped and failed to clear the hurdle, not where it mattered most. Because the finishing line, the end goal, had always been in sight.

Now Naruto feels like she's running blind, feels like she's gonna crash into every damn hurdle there is and trip over her own two feet.

Because she doesn't know how to deal with Madara.

She doesn't even know where to begin.

Every other person she's 'converted' has always changed their tune after Naruto threw out a passionate speech, highlighting every wrong while her tone dripped with amiability, with a promise of being accepted if they'd just stop holding the world hostage.

Only, Madara's already had the talk. And while he no longer wishes to lay waste to the world, its like there's something broken inside him. Naruto can see it in his eyes.

How do you relight the will to live in someone?

  
Chewing on the pork strips, Naruto twists her chopsticks about in the broth, offering Teuchi and Ayame a tentative smile when they glance over in concern.

It's not a common occurrence for her to take such a length of time eating her ramen. Usually she speeds right through, eternally hungry for more.

Which, come to think of it, sucks. She's not gonna stop enjoying ramen because she's struggling with Madara-teme.

In fact, forget that!

Naruto digs into her food with renewed vigour, Teuchi letting out a sigh of relief and Ayame firing up the stove in preparation for the mass amount of ramen Naruto will no doubt consume in the next few hours.

 

And as the blonde looks down into her fresh bowl of ambrosia, she shrugs.

She'll deal with Madara as the days come.

Because let's face it, she's never been much of a planner anyway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bitch to write.
> 
> That is all.


	6. Two

 

 

_April_

 

 

 

 

“Good morning!” The greeting rings through the room, though the apartment, and quite possibly through the entire building.

Madara lays still, eyes closed even though he is now painfully wide awake, all in the hopes that the stupid woman will get the underlying hint and leave the general vicinity. Alas, Uzumaki have never been exceptional at picking up little hints. Nor have the never quite been able to read the mood of a room right. Why would he expect this one to be different from her many ancestors?

So, while having the covers ripped away from his body is a shock, he realises he should have probably expected such a thing, such a blatant invasion of his quarters (where had yesterday’s respect for boundaries gone?). Still, while he should have expected it, that does not mean he reacts pleasantly. The air is cold on his bare skin and it is only with half a mind that Madara thanks his past self of the previous night for deciding to wear underwear to bed, as opposed to going stark naked as he’d done in the past.

Uzumaki’s shriek of surprise is amusing though, in a dark sort of way.

“Gah! I bought you pyjamas! The hell- you’re supposed to wear them!” There is a blissful moment of silence before it registers that the slight snuffling sound is Uzumaki rummaging through his draws.

“Woman-” he sternly starts, eyes snapping open, only to find himself swiftly silence by a bundle of cotton smacking him in the face. The proclaimed pyjamas, no doubt.

Snarling, Madara snatches the clothes from his head and twists to stare at Uzumaki. She meets his glare fearlessly, cheeks pinked but unashamedly rising to the challenge. It’s nothing like meeting Hashirama’s gaze (where there had once been a long for their shared dream, a silent plea that he would not speak aloud, least he damage Madara’s pride), not in the least. No, meeting Uzumaki’s eyes is something else altogether. Challenging, a dare for him to so much as try to argue with her.

But that’s what she wants. She wants to trick him, to motivate him into doing, doing something with this second chance of a life. By hellfire will Madara concede to doing what an Uzumaki, to doing what a woman wants. Option one is to argue, option two is to storm off in a huff. Both are what Uzumaki wants. He opts for number three; rolling over and attempting to fore himself back into slumber sans quilt-covers.

Face buried in his pillow, there’s a single breath in which he believes this’ll be the end of it. Then tiny hands clamp down on one of his exposed ankles and physically haul him from the mattress. Madara reacts instinctively, twisting at the waist, pulling his leg and attacker closer to his arms, intimately aware he has no blades currently on his person. He’s killed with his bare hands before, messy as it ends up being. Only the body twists too, a knee landing in his stomach as he tumbles to the floor, dragging the woman down with him.

Despite his greater reach, larger mass and overall experience, after a thirty-four second scramble, he’s the one with the floorboards pressing hard into his cheek. There’s an elbow digging hard into the tender expanse between his exerted shoulder blades, right up against his spine, the hand attached to said elbow pressing his twisted left wrist uncomfortably tight against his lumbus. The other hand has his in a ninja-grade finger lock that’s also managed to grab a handful of his hair, tight enough that if he tries to buck to bint off he’ll lose whatever she’s got hold of. There’s one knee is planted solidly into the back of his thigh, the other between his legs with the shin crossed over his otherwise unrestrained calf.

Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, Madara exhales, long and low and hard. If he had his chakra-

“I went through so much shit,” Uzumaki hisses in his ear, an alarming reminder that her teeth are still very much free and she’s a jinchūriki with sharper than normal canines, “and it wasn’t all because of you but you sure did play a part. Actions have consequences, so suck it up and get on with it. The real Uchiha Madara never stopped. I’d hate to see you roll over and show your belly now.” A breath, then Uzumaki snickers. “Though Kurama doesn’t have a problem either way. He sees you defeated or having to deal with me. It’s win win. Heh, bastard fox.” The fond tone with which that is said is all sorts of minatory. Actually liking the tailed beasts, actually liking the Kyūbi, urgh.

“Woman, get off me.”

“That’s what happens when you’re chained up, your muscles trophy-”

“Atrophy,” Madara corrects with a reflexive snap, the blood beginning to rush to his face, swifter with every moment long she sits atop him. As if he isn’t chained to her whims already, as if she isn’t holding his chakra hostage-

“Listen, bastard. I’m putting my neck on the line for you ‘cause that’s what the Shodaime woulda wanted. That means missions together and that means training together. So, get dressed, or I’m dragging you to the training fields like that and tying you to the stump.”

“I am not some common game or unbloodied rookie to be bound, woman.”

“Well then prove it, dattebayo.”

 

 


End file.
